The Unexpected Compatability of Chicken & Waffles
by Mancuso
Summary: Dean/Castiel. Erotic eating at Roscoe’s. And...it’s a little cracky. Incase the summary doesn’t suggest that well enough. The scenery will change as the story progresses.
1. Let the Meat Slide Down Your ThroatHole

Sam's fingers were practically rubbing holes into his temples. Demon after demon, heaps of mortal bodies in threes and fours scattered around his feet. Ruby should have been here a long time ago. He'd been summoning her for nearly fifteen minutes now.

"Sam! You have to stop them!"

Sam whirled around, turning his back on the lot of bodies. He'd been concentrating so hard with his inner eyes and ears that he'd neglected to pay attention to the real world. Dean and Bobby held between them a large round human-sized cage. Ruby was inside.

"Sam, they came to stop you!"

Sam pulled a pistol from his pocket, stepping back, miraculously dodging planting his heal in the rotting face of some poor dead mortal. In an instant, Dean felt the force of Bobby under the cage disappear. He felt it before he heard the pistol go off. The cage fell with Bobby, the top coming off and rattling away like a demented hula hoop. As Ruby got to her feet, Sam advanced.

Dean was in shock. Reeling. He did not make any moves to defend himself as Sam dropped the pistol and pulled out a knife. He only thought "Why the knife? Why not quick and painless for me?"

As the knife slid in, Dean's vision went white.

_Dean._

White with heaven?

_Dean. _

Or white with love, or hate, or regret? It was some sort of extreme passion materialized through light.

_Dean, wake up._

Or maybe it was an over-head lamp hanging two and a half feet from his face. His eyes popped open and he nearly jolted right out of the booth as Castiel slid in opposite him.

"I didn't keep you waiting that long, did I?"

"No. I guess I just nodded off."

"You're not sleeping well at night." Castiel said. Of course, he knew. He probably watched Dean in his sleep with some sort of magic crystal orb or something.

"Well, would you? I mean...come on."

"I won't pretend to know what it's like for you."

"Good, because the last thing I need is an empathetic angel riding my ass."

The waitress, for the second time, came to the table. "I see your friend has arrived, Sir. Are you ready to order, now?"

"Yes. I'll have a plain plate of chicken and waffles."

"Alright." She scribbled away in her little notebook and then lifted her head up to signal to Castiel that it was his turn to order. Dean also turned his head to the angel as if to say "you want anything? I'm buying."

Castiel just looked between the two of them, for the first time since Dean'd first met him, he seemed absolutely at a loss for words.

"Come on. It's delicious." Dean coaxed before turning back to the waitress with a smirk. "He'll have what I'm having."

"Alright. Two chicken and waffle plates. I'll bring that out to you as soon as it's ready." She smiled, her full lips parting to reveal perfect straight white teeth. When she turned to walk away, Dean couldn't help but admire her rear end. Ebony thighs disappearing up the deliciously short skirt and forming the mound.

"Check out the back-seat on that one." He grinned.

Castiel's inquisitive expression soon turned to a warning one.

"Don't worry, man. I got it."

"Through theft."

Dean shrugged. "Gotta eat."

"But must you objectify women while you do it?"

"Is there any other way?" Dean popped his neck which was starting to feel sore from the position he'd fallen asleep in only moments ago. "Anyhow. Why're we here?"

"You're asking me?" Castiel asked, indicating their surroundings with a sweep of the hand.

"I don't mean why're we here at this restaurant. We're here because I have a hard-on for deep fried soul food. I mean why're we in LA?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge just yet."

"_I'm not at liberty to divulge just yet."_ Dean mocked him, sounding less like Castiel than Paul Reubens as Pee-wee Herman. "Please don't tell me it has anything to do with the name of the city. I swear to God, if He's making me into some sort of apocalyptic Meg Ryan I will-..."

"You'll what?" Castiel challenged.

"Well, first I'd have to check myself out topless in the mirror..."

"Here you go." The waitress said with good cheer, sliding a plate in front of Dean, and one in front of Castiel. Dean's salivary glands perked right up at the hot smell. Castiel only studied his as though it were as alien as it probably was to him.

Dean dug in without wasting time. Knife and fork worked vigorously to spread the giant ice-cream scoop of butter his waffles were topped with. Then he poured both of the cups of syrup over them and the utensils took flight once again in cutting up the waffles into tiny, mouth-sized pieces for easy shoveling. Castiel watched all of this in sight amusement. Dean only paused when he felt the pensive stare.

"Well. You gonna eat that, or what?"

"No. I'm not." Castiel said. Almost defiantly, though Dean didn't figure it was meant to sound that way. After all, deliberate defiance was too human a pleasure.

"Come on. I didn't purchase that meal in vain. Chow down. Live a little."

Surprisingly, this seemed to work on Castiel. He followed Dean's lead in the preparation of his food exactly, only slightly more dignified. That shouldn't have been hard. He had been studying him the whole time. But it was Dean's turn to watch in amazement, now, as Castiel lifted the first fork-full to his lips. He hoped he'd figure out how to chew when it got in.

"If I choke, you have to help me."

"If you...what? I'm not performing the Heimlich maneuver on an angel. Besides, I'm sure your divine power will allow you to will it out of your own esophagus."

Castiel shot Dean a glare.

"I'm not worried for myself, Dean. I'm worried for the man."

"Oh. Right." Dean became serious again. Apologetically so. But the demeanor did not last. "You let the meat slide down your throat-hole." And he even used his best Adam Sandler impersonation. However, it was completely lost on Castiel. Oh well. Dean thought it was funny.

"And I'm not eating because you demanded it, Dean. The up-keep of this man's body is still a priority to me. He does require nourishment every now and then. It's only that..." Castiel's eyes dropped to the bite on the fork just a few inches from his lips "the nourishing quality of this food is questionable."

"No believe me." Dean took a massive bite of chicken, followed it with a massive chunk of waffle, and chewed them, mixing and homogenizing them over his palate. "It does a body good." He swallowed, allowed himself to reel the way that a good mouth-full of food will make him, and then rested his eyes back on the angel, who was subsequently sliding the bit of waffle into his mouth.

His eyes closed momentarily, and then opened again as his tongue could be seen moving around behind his cheeks, rolling the human food over and around in his mouth, trying to find the perfect place to let it rest and be tasted before moving on to mastication. His expression was...why...it was orgasmic, Dean mused. Completely and wholly sensual. Dean almost felt it himself.

Castiel only chewed a few moments before he guessed it was good enough to swallow. Dean followed his adam's apple all the way up and down the length of his throat and Castiel's eyes closed again. But still, only briefly.

"Good, huh?" Dean smirked.

"I wouldn't call it divine."

"Neither would I. But a close second, how about?"

"It's enjoyable." Castiel resigned.

"I bet you don't get to enjoy much from the human world, do you?"

"Gravely, no. In fact, the reason I asked you to meet me out for lunch was because I was hoping for the opportunity to get some food into this vessel. I'd just...put too much faith in you when I assumed you'd be able to pick an appropriate place on your own."

"Oh, come on." Dean said. "Treat yourself. This is much better than that rabbit food they serve at that vegan place Sam dragged me to last week."

The two of them maintained eye-contact as Dean wrapped a napkin around a piece of chicken and took a beast-sized bite out of it and Castiel cut a small choke-hazard-free piece off with his knife and fork and received it slowly and appreciatively as before.

Simultaneously, the two of them made a most human and male grunt, then, surprised, each swallowed abruptly and stared wide-eyed at one another.

"Okay. This is getting a little too weird for me." Dean said. "I mean...it's one thing for us to have lunch together, but it's another thing for us to both get off on it."

"For what?" Castiel inquired, sincerely.

"Ah, never mind. What I mean is...we're both enjoying this a little too much for me to be comfortable with it."

"There should be nothing sexual about a man and an angel eating in a fried food restaurant, Dean."

"Exactly. There _shouldn't_ be. Stop making it that way."

"I don't even have a sex drive."

"I don't buy that. If you can enjoy a plate of chicken and waffles, you can enjoy..." Dean's eyebrows came together, and he was so irritated that he couldn't blame the start of this conversation on the angel.

"Dean, you can't blame me if you're sexually attracted to this body."

Oh. This was getting SO wrong.

"I'm not, buddy. I'm not even gay. Besides, don't you guys up there believe that's unnatural?"

"It's perfectly natural for people of the same sex to be attracted to each other. Remember, the bible was a loose human translation of the word of God. It wasn't direct from the source. I apologize for selecting a vessel that you find titillating. I never would've chosen it for that reason. It's of little use to me if you're constantly distracted by its aesthetic pleasantness."

"I'm not, okay? It isn't that. Have I ever looked at you like I wanted to jump your bones?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"The hell? I did no such thing! You just...when you were eating..."

"You were titillated by it."

"You have got to stop using that word." Dean shoved his plate away from himself. "Great. I've lost my appetite. And that's something that I just don't do."

"We can get...what's it called? A doggy bag?"

Dean had meant for his action to be emphatic, but who was he to turn down food?

"Okay. Fine. But we need to have a little talk when we get back to the hotel."

"You're taking me to your hotel?"

"Not if you're going to put it that way."

To be continued...


	2. For the Love of God By Proxy!

AN: Okay. The first chapter was funnier than this. A lot funnier. I'm not consistent at all, I know. This chapter's sorta just...mediocre. Not exactly the same crack that preceded it. And the next chapter will most likely be porn. Maybe my crack dealer is cutting with too much baking soda.

The car ride to the hotel had been a nightmare. If nothing was being said, it was awkward. If Castiel tried to console Dean, it was more awkward.

"Okay. Silence from you. For the rest of the ride, alright?" Dean had eventually barked at him, immediately regretting it as it left his mouth because, really, who was he to give an angel orders? But Castiel listened and obeyed.

When they got to the door of the room, Dean handing the bags of food to Castiel and fiddling with the key and lock that hadn't been quick to open since him and Sam had checked in, they were unpleasantly surprised by the face of Sam peering through the curtains in the window at them.

Castiel was the first to notice.

"Dean. Is that Sam, there?"

"Not now, I'm tryin' to...oh. Yeah." He glared at Sam who was obviously laughing at him behind the glass. Bastard. So Dean said, loudly and with large emphasis on the movement of his mouth "What the hell is wrong with you? Open up and let us in!"

Sam disappeared from the window and a moment later, swung the door open to receive Dean and his guest, laughter-winded.

"Oh, man. The simplest of tasks, Dean."

"Would you like another taste of my fist, Sam? How do you manage getting it open? Probably use your..." Dean trailed off, suddenly reminded of the presence of the angel who was not too happy with Sam and his special powers. "Uh." Dean grabbed Castiel by the arm and led him into the room while Sam closed the door behind them. Dean sat himself and the angel on the side of his own bed, and Sam took a seat facing them on his. "Sam. This is Castiel. Cass...this is my brother Sam."

Sam looked slightly frightened, but at the same time, he knew that if Dean and the angel had come to smite him, they would not have brought doggy bags from Roscoe's along with them. So he smiled with good cheer and genuine appreciation for being in the presence of an angel of The Lord.

"It's nice to meet you, Sam." Castiel said, flatly.

"Likewise." Sam grinned. "You're...not quite what I thought you'd be."

"Well, of course this is only a vessel."

"Oh, I know." Sam said, glancing over at his brother. "It's just that Dean said you were this...really short scrawny guy with bad hair and a face that could only be described as having been run over by a truck full of ugly."

Dean's eyebrows raised warningly at his brother, and then he broke into nervous laughter, looking back to Castiel. "He's just joking."

"No." Castiel said, in just as dry a tone as before which worried Dean, because at Roscoe's it had seemed like he was finally beginning to loosen up a little. He hoped it wasn't Sammy's presence that was making him so tense, although, that would have been the best explanation. "You said it."

"Well. I only meant that..."

"You were only suppressing the feelings that were confusing to you."

"Uh." Sam chimed in, deciding it was probably best not to let Dean say whatever it was behind his lips that was making his mouth curl that way. At least not to let him say it to an angel. "Well, in any case, your, uh...vessel. It's not ugly. He, I mean. He's not ugly."

"Thank you." Castiel cocked his head to the side curiously. "You're not exactly Hellish yourself."

Sam stiffened at that. Not sure how to respond. Not even sure how Castiel meant for it to be taken. "Thanks." He said, turning to Dean once more. "So you took an angel to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles for lunch? What're you, Meg Ryan?"

"Alright, Sam. That's joke's buried and dead, no use digging it back up. Anyway. If you don't mind, Castiel and I need to discuss something in private. So now that this little meet and greet is over with, could you...you know...scram?"

Sam's face contorted. "You're kicking me out?"

"Sam, it's nothing personal. We're not dismissing you so that we can discuss you. Dean wants to talk about his sexual attraction to Michael."

"To...who?" Sam's eyes were wide and there was a hint of a smirk in his lips. As though he was anticipating the answer to his question so that it could be stored away for later and brought out at whim to torture his older brother.

"Nobody!" Dean snapped, assuming Michael was the name of the man who Castiel had decided to ride the apocalypse out in. Man, that sounded dirty. Man, he didn't mind it. Kinda...the opposite really. Aw, fuck.

"Okay, okay. Leaving now." Sam stood up and made for the door, turning back for a brief moment to smile at Dean and the smile conveyed mischief. Lovely.

Dean moved to Sam's bed so that he could now sit facing the angel. It also put a little bit of much-needed distance between them and that was good.

"C'mon, man. Why're you coming in here and announcing stuff like that to my brother? He doesn't need to know what we're going to be talking about when he leaves. Hell, that's WHY we're making him leave!"

"It shouldn't bother you this much, Dean. I told you it was perfectly natural."

"Except that it's not natural at all. I'm not gay. I've never BEEN gay. I don't...I'm not attracted to you."

"Let's say I had chosen a vessel with less physical appeal. Even then, there would still be a chance that you would find yourself attracted to me in it. Why do you think our visitations to the human world are so far and few in-between? We make them sparse because we're not just holy do-gooders of The Lord. We're trouble makers, as well. We don't always mean to be, but we can be. Angels don't fall because they're inherently bad. They fall because the human world can charm them. Because human beings are so divine. More so than ourselves. God loves your race more than ours. He has said this without reserve. We are jealous of you, but we are also in awe of you. Your free will and your individuality intrigues us. It's not hard for us to fall in love. But the same goes for you. We are just as alien and interesting to you. You may not be aware of it, but those sexual feelings you have are likely just bursts of divine romantic love translated into a more human tongue. "

"There's no way I'm in love with an angel, man. You got the wrong idea. I'd sooner admit to wanting to bang you than that."

"You don't understand. If I could show you my true form, you'd know. Because you would feel this attraction even more despite not being able to recognize any human characteristics in me that appeal to you."

Dean shook his head. "No. You're trying to tell me that not only am I supposedly in love with you - nice job flattering yourself there, by the way – but that I'm sexually attracted to this..._Michael_ guy you're sporting around in?"

"Dean, you shouldn't be so offended by the notion. You should rejoice. It's proof of your undeniable love for God. You've ignored it all your life, but if you can love one of His creatures, you can love Him. You love your brother Samuel. You loved your parents. You love me. And it's good, because God loves you, too. So do I. You won't be punished for your feelings, Dean. God wants you to love Him."

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Okay." He said. "Suppose I am attracted to your 'vessel.' Suppose I do love God in some...abstract way. You said I was no good to you if I was distracted by it. So what about that? Do you switch meat-suits or do you just put up with me?"

"I indulge you."

"You..." Dean's eyes shot open and he searched the angel's face for any sign that this was a joke. Castiel's face was made of stone, as usual. "You do? How do you mean?"

"When you want to see me, I'll be there. When you're lonely, or when you're in need of affection, I will give it."

"Whoa. What kind of affection are we talking about here? Pat on the back 'good job, I'm proud of you' affection or slap on the ass 'let's go to bed' affection?"

Castiel's blank stare cracked, and the smallest of smiles was visible on his lips. "Whatever it is you need to keep yourself going, Dean."

"Do you even know about...?"

"Yes. I know about human affection. I've only been monitoring your race for thousands of years."

"Wow. I wasn't aware that angels could be sarcastic."

"I'm trying to make myself more human for you. Otherwise, this arrangement would never work."

Dean looked from side to side, to the window through which Sammy had spied on the two of them, and then back to Castiel's eyes.

"One thing, though, my fine feathered friend. If we actually do...you know...go through with this, you're going to have to get one thing straight."

"What's that?" Castiel asked, finally sitting the long forgotten doggy bags to the side of him on Dean's bed.

"I don't do bottom."

To be continued...


	3. But Nervously We Wonder When and Why

Sam sat alone in the Impala feeling dejected but not resentful. It was okay that Dean and Castiel were probably having it out over Dean's sexuality just ten feet and a stucco wall away from him. It was more than okay. It was fucking hilarious, and despite feeling left out, Sam had to appreciate the situation. He just hoped that Dean wasn't going to get in trouble for Castiel's misreading of his character. Even if Dean was gay, could he really be in trouble with God for it? I mean...not that Dean was. He definitely was not gay. But speaking hypothetically; If God was the one who ordered Dean out of Hell, would it make sense for him to order him back in on such a technicality? Such a triviality? Sam didn't think so. Anyhow. Dean was not gay. And that was that. And it really didn't matter, because Sam had just gotten to a whole new level of Super Pop he'd never been able to get to before.

"Dean. I haven't presented you with all the details quite yet." Castiel calmly informed him.

"Oh, you mean there's some sort of catch? You're not going to accidentally melt any parts of me off , are you? Because that makes me nervous."

"No, Dean. I'm not quite at liberty to give you what you need just yet. As of now, anything beyond your friendly 'pat on the back' affection would be considered a sin against God, and I would be cast out of Heaven for it."

Dean scratched behind his neck and studied Castiel's face. "I'm not sure I know what you're getting at, but I do want to make it perfectly clear that this will not be a casual thing." He averted his eyes upon finishing the sentence. "I'm not...gonna let something like this be, you know...cheap."

"No, of course not. But you don't understand."

"No, I get it. What? He wants me to pray for you? That way you're off the hook? I don't mind that. I mean...I do; it goes against everything I've ever _not_ believed. But I'll do it because...well...I can't exactly deny The Man's existence anymore, can I?"

"You're absolutely right, Dean." Castiel looked some sort of equivalent to pleased, and when Dean finally made eye contact again, he was pleased as well.

"Another thing, though. If this is going to be a big divine gay experience no matter what I do, I want us to get to know each other a little better first. And not in the biblical sense."

"I know everything about you, already." Castiel tilted his head. "I've watched you your whole life."

"Great. So that makes you the biggest cradle-robber in the history of the universe." Dean snorted. "But that's beside the point. You may know my entire life story, but you don't understand any of it."

"God has given me all the understanding I'll ever need."

"But he didn't make you human, Cass." Wow. It felt good to directly address an angel by name. Or...nickname, anyhow. "You know what I've been through, but you can't relate. And at first I was grateful for that, because it made you easier to deal with. You weren't the Touched By an Angel type who'd rub my back and hold the Kleenex on my nose for me. But if you're going to be..._with_ me, you better learn to identify with SOMETHING."

"I have emotions, Dean. They just aren't translated through this body as readably as they are when I'm among my own race and in my own form. The only reason I can read yours is because I've had the time to study them."

"Alright. Whatever. You know what? I say we nuke what's in those doggy bags and finish our lunches."

Castiel's stomach growled and his eyes dropped to his belly, where his eyebrows furrowed, twisting his face into that ordinarily annoying stare of curiosity that only made Dean get the warm and fuzzies in his own tummy, now. This was pretty bile-inducing. But if Dean were actually to throw up, it'd probably be pink with little rubber duckies floating in it.

* * *

AN: Okay. That was short. 686 words short. Damn. oo But it doesn't matter because that's the second update in one day. Go me. Anyhow, I decided not be like Kripke and get tomatoed for not including Sam in a chapter. So he has a teeny tiny segment here. And no offense to anyone if I made him seem too dumb. It wasn't really intentional, I was actually just spontaneously brainstorming as I typed all this, so the development of whatever little bit of plot there is came as my fingers flew. And if Sam's coming across as dumb to anyone, it's really just me shining through. Sam's piece, I wrote in the middle of writing Dean and Castiel's and it was actually me taking a break from them and sorting out my ideas behind whether or not the homosexuality being wrong factor should even be brought into the equation. So I did this via typing a little piece for Sam. Not sure why anyone would ever be curious as to my writing methods seeing as how I'm far from being a mature writer, but if you managed to read through all this, Mazel Tov. 3 (Oh. And I confess. I have never eaten at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles in my life. I've never even been near California. I'm just obsessed with the unlikely, yet delicious combination of breakfast and dinner.)


	4. Julia Child is Rolling in Her Grave

Dean and Castiel were forced to eat their lunch cold because every time they tried to microwave them, the microwave made this horrible noise and seemed to vibrate as though they'd put a fork in it or something. But they hadn't, so what the fuck? Dean looked sideways at the angel, who was staring intently at the microwave and for the third time, Dean pressed stop.

"Are you doing this?" He asked.

"No. Is it not doing what it's supposed to be doing?"

"No. It's definitely not supposed to be making that sound"

"That doesn't mean its working?" Castiel cocked his head.

"No." Dean growled.

"What's this thing called? An oven?"

"No. It's a microwave."

"Oh. I see." Castiel said, sounding enlightened.

"You see what?"

"I see why it won't work. It's because I'm in the room with it."

"Well I asked you if you were doing it!" Dean pressed the button that made the door swing open, and he reached in, grabbing the paper plate he'd divvied the food up on and set it on the counter. "I guess we'll just have to eat it at room temperature."

"Are you upset?" Castiel asked.

"Mildly. I mean...can you _try_ not to screw with my microwave and my radio reception? Or is making me miserable just part of your personality? You can't even say one word to me in your own voice without almost exploding my head."

"I'm sorry. I told you I didn't know. If you prayed...God would grant you the ability to see me and hear me."

"We already talked about this. Why can't you ever bring up all the details at once? It'd make everything a whole lot easier." Dean huffed and slid Castiel's half of the food onto another paper plate and handed it to him, leading him to the small two-person table to sit and eat. "So you're saying that if I make this prayer, I can have a hot meal, see your true form, and shag you without risking your merit?"

"To put it so mundanely. Except that it won't change my effect on radiowaves or microwaves."

"Well...you are talking to a human." Dean tore into the grub with the plastic fork he'd laid out for himself on the table. "God. This is even good, cold."

Castiel picked his up and examined the plate, unsure how he was going to be able cut it up without a knife. He couldn't just do it with the side of the fork since it was plastic, and Dean's was already cut up, so watching him offered no solutions. Eventually Castiel just impaled the Pac-man shaped waffle he'd taken a bite out of at the restaurant and lifted it to his mouth, taking small nibbles off the edge. When Dean finally looked up from his own eating, he saw this.

"Would you like me to cut that for you?"

"Please." Castiel shook the waffle off of the fork, and it landed with an undignified plop, back on the plate among it's brother and the sticky syrup. Dean pulled the plate over his way and took his switch-blade from his jacket pocket, flinging it back and open. "Don't worry." He said. "I cleaned it yesterday."

"I trust you." Castiel watched him hold the waffle pinion with the fork and cut horizontally first, then vertically, turning the waffle into a separated grid. He did the same with the second waffle. Then he took a handful of napkins and went as far as to wrap them around the drumstick for Castiel so that he'd be able to eat it with his hands without getting them too greasy.

"You should've been a nurse." Castiel stated, taking the plate back and lifting a fork-full of waffle to his lips.

"Me? No fucking way. I mean. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping people, and nurses are hot and stuff. The female ones, anyway. Well...some of them. But I don't think I'd be very good at it. I'm not all that pleasant when I'm changing someone's bandages. You can ask Sammy."

"But if you had to have an alternative to hunting, I think you'd be good at it. Caring for others seems to be in your blood."

"I think Sammy'd be better cut out for nursing."

"You don't think Sam would be the type to slip a patient an extra dose just to end their suffering?"

Dean swallowed the last bite he'd taken, feeling cold, letting Castiel's words sink in.

"No. I don't. Is that what you think?"

"It's what I've been warned. I don't doubt that your brother has a good heart, Dean. But you can't deny that he's gone through some major changes over the years."

"Let's just...talk about this some other time. I know how you guys up there feel about Sam, but you're wrong. And for now, let's just put it on the back-burner."

"But, Dean, the end of the world can't be put on-"

"Did you hear me?!" Dean shouted. Castiel didn't flinch. He just stared patiently. "You said you were here to help me? Then shut the fuck up about Sam. For now, anyway."

"I don't like your tone. Yes, I'm here to help you, but as of now, I'm not assigned to take your orders. Not yet, anyway."

Dean finished the food on his plate, not even replying.

Castiel finished his as well, his chicken still untouched because he could not bring himself to savagely eat it off the bone. Dean took both of their plates and dumped them in the garbage.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" The angel asked. Dean wondered if maybe it had made him uncomfortable if that was possible. Or maybe he felt shut out and lonely. Dean kind of hoped for the latter.

"I was talking. But not to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking to your boss man. Making my request."

Castiel allowed a small smile to break on his face.

"Did he talk back?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I didn't hear anything, if that's what you're asking. But I could feel something."

"You felt what?"

"Acceptance. I suppose. I don't know." The color rose in Dean's cheeks, because speaking in metaphor embarrassed him even when other people did it. He tried not to do it himself, for the most part.

"It's because you're worthy, Dean. He's depending on you, and so he won't deny you anything within reason."

"And the purity of one of His angels is expendable?"

"With permission, it doesn't count as sin. It counts more as an obligation. It's work for me. But you did ask. And you'll receive."

"Oh, that's a self-esteem booster. And I told you already. I won't be the one receiving."

"Have you always relied on your sense of humor to take the significance out of a conversation?"

"Yes."

Sam's knock came, causing Dean to jump.

"You two done in there?!"

Castiel looked to Dean to see what his response would be, but Dean just rolled his eyes, grumbling, and went to open the door for Sam.

"So...I guess you guys cleared things up?"

"Yeah." Dean said. "I guess."

"Your brother and I are going to be lovers." Castiel stated matter-of-factly.

"You're...what?" Sam's eyes shot wide open and he let out a nervous burst of laughter. "Are you serious?"

"He's an angel, Sam. Would he joke?" Dean was only a small bit annoyed with Castiel's blunt statement.

Sam shook his head and used his hand to move his bangs out of his face. He made his way over to his bed as though he needed it to support himself. He took his seat and just stared at the wall ahead of him, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Wait wait wait." He finally said, turning to face the two of them again and pulling his legs up on the bed, no longer minding his shoes on the comforter. "Dean. You're not gay. And angels...don't have sex drives. And...what even brought this about? Because you can't convince me that it was the soul food. Maybe the LA setting is getting to you?"

"Sam." Castiel addressed him calmly, which only made Dean anxious because the angel had a way of being too candid with people. "Your brother may not be gay. Sexuality isn't black and white. But that's beside the point. He may be physically attracted to this body, but the attraction goes beyond that. Your brother has a deep rooted love for me."

"I do?" Dean raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"Yes, you do, Dean. I have the means to recognize it." He turned back to Sam, now. "And since your brother is a hard-headed human, in order to bond the way that The Lord needs us to, we're going to have to bond physically."

"See what I mean, Cass? You're quick to offer explanations, but you never give me the whole story. This whole thing was GOD-ORDERED?!"

"If I told you, you wouldn't have prayed for it." Castiel snapped.

"Hey. Okay. I think I'm following." Sam said. "I'm just...I need to let the hilarity set in." Sam began to giggle madly. Oh, this was good. It was the end of the world, he was wanted for treason against his own race by both the good guys and the bad guys, Dean was suddenly gay, and he had to sleep with an angel in order to be able to effectively govern it. If only Dad was around to share this joke.

"So we're definitely fucking." Dean said, musing over it.

"Having relations." Castiel corrected him.

"Oh, not if you say it like that." Dean said. "This is just...too wrong."

"No, Dean. It's right."

"So are you spending the night here?" Sam asked, regaining his breath. "I mean...does this mean that you won't be taking off on Dean anymore? Spending your afternoons fighting with your brothers?"

Castiel looked at Dean who shrugged as if to say "it's up to you, dude."

"I will be allotted more time to spend with your brother. I don't know if that takes me completely off the battle-field. It may for now, though, since your brother has requested specific cordialities. And as for spending the night, that's up to the two of you."

Sam looked to Dean.

"I don't mind it." He said. "I mean. I could always get a separate room, right? That way Castiel will have a bed all to himself."

"Good idea." Dean said. "You up for that, Cass?"

Castiel nodded his approval.

And so that is how Dean found himself spending the night in a hotel room with an angel.

To be continued...

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AN: This just gets more and more crack-influenced. Okay. So...the NEXT chapter should be porn, then. Maybe. Probably.


	5. I Like the Way it Feels Between My Pt1

AN: Okay. I lied, I'm sorry. Band practice was cancelled, and so, the house was not empty today, and I did NOT have plenty of peace and quiet to accomplish anything in. This chapter is only a half of what it should be, but at least it's something, I guess.

* * *

Dean stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and slipped his clothes back on. It was getting close to laundry time again, and while he'd have rather slept in his undies, he just didn't feel comfortable what with Castiel sleeping in the same room.

"Are you going to want to get in there next?" He asked, stepping out of the bathroom and collapsing backwards onto his designated bed.

"In...the shower?" Castiel asked. "I don't know." He was thinking about it. He'd never had a shower before and he wasn't entirely sure what all one did in the shower. "Should I?"

"Well, if you want an honest answer, I think you should. You smell like last week's ass. You're all concerned about the up-keep of Mr. Meat-suit, but you don't bother rinsing him off every now and then? That's just bad manners."

Castiel looked down at the body he was inhabiting. "What do I need to do?"

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked, sitting up on his elbows to look at the angel.

Castiel lifted his eyebrows and his eyes widened innocently.

"Oh, Jesus. You're not kidding..." Dean sighed, sitting back up and rubbing at his eyes in an exasperated way. "All those years up there surveying the race and you never took the time out to watch a hot babe in the shower?"

Castiel shrugged. What could he say? He'd never felt any sort of attraction to women. They were weaker and more varied from the original blue-prints. Man was made in the image of God. Women were made in the image of man and then given add-ons, which, in Castiel's opinion, only served as a distraction from the root of their divinity.

"Okay. Look. Get in there and take your clothes off. I don't have any conditioner or anything. Not that you even know what that is. But if you'd like some, we could go knock on Sam's door and borrow his. He's the one with all the feminine products."

"That's okay." Castiel said, making his way to the bathroom and struggling with the tie around his neck. He'd accidentally pulled it too tight around his throat and the vein in his neck was bulging and throbbing. His face was tinting a purplish color.

"Lovely." Dean muttered, moving to help him. He loosened the tie and undid it, letting it fall to the floor. "You know, ties just make people look like dorks, if you ask me. Why do you wear it in the first place?"

"It's what the man had on when I took him."

"It's a tie. It's not a limb. I think he could stand to lose it." Without thinking, Dean had moved on to unbuttoning the shirt. It was like jumping back into an old, familiar, sepia-toned habit. Like when he was still a boy...a manling...and Sammy was very small. Dean had to administer all of the baths, and Sammy could never get his clothes off by himself. He always ended up a tangled mass of limbs and polyester cotton blends writhing on the floor and calling for Dean's help. This was familiar. Dean didn't mind helping the angel out of his clothes. He found it a bit endearing. Before he knew it, the angel, and his man-puppet, stood in front of him in only his boxers.

"Ah. Your man was a boxer-guy."

"No. He was a pacifist."

"That's not what I meant." Dean was sizing up the flesh, now. "Besides...he's not exactly cut from the boxer stock. Not exactly scrawny, either. Got a nice build. Admirable, anyway."

"Or beautiful."

"Yeah. Wait, what?" Dean looked back up to the angel, shocked out of his trance. "Okay. Whatever. I'm turning around now. Get rid of those." He pointed to the boxers before turning to face the mirror where he could still see Castiel, but only above the waist. He bent over and dropped the boxers down around his ankles, then carefully stepped out of them.

"Okay." He said. "What do I do now?"

"Nothing. Just stay there." Dean crab-walked his way over to the shower, trying to keep from seeing anything he wasn't sure he wanted to. "If I let you mix the water, you'd either end up scalding yourself or putting yourself into a hypothermic coma." He reached down and turned on the hot, keeping his hand underneath the spout until he felt it sting. Then he mixed in the cold until it felt about right. Hot, but not scalding. "Okay. Ready."

Castiel stared at him, waiting for him to move out of the way, but Dean seemed to be avoiding moving at all lest he accidentally catch a glimpse of Cass.

"Dean. I can't just walk through you."

"Oh. Right." He turned and kept his eyes level with Castiel's and awkwardly tried to move past him in the tight space of the hotel bathroom, desperately avoiding touching any body parts. Castiel kept the eye-contact up as well, not sure what Dean meant by it, and slipped the opposite way, making his way to the tub and stepping in. Dean sat down on the toilet and watched the wall in front of him.

"You're staying?" Castiel asked.

"Well, yeah. You said you didn't know what to do in here. And I have to make sure you don't drown yourself, right?"

"Right. But you just seemed so uncomfortable being in the same room with me without that last article of clothing."

"Yeah, well. Didn't Adam and Eve eat the apple and learn shame?"

"You're not the naked one."

"Touche. Look. Just shut up and get yourself wet. Make sure your hair's wet, too. Cause the first thing you'll do is wash your hair."

"All of it?" Castiel asked, surprised.

"What?" Dean looked to the shower to see Castiel standing with his arms stretched out in front of him and his head bent down, taking note of all the hair, thick and thin, coarse, and downy, covering his entire body. "Oh. No. Dude. Ew. No. Just the hair on your head. And...now that I'm thinking about it, a lot of that other hair needs to go if we're ever going to...uh...yeah."

The angel only looked up at him, confused.

"Look. I can handle that you're a dude. I mean...just barely. But I'm not taking a frigging cactus to bed with me. We're shaving you." Dean stood up from the toilet and started getting out of his clothes again.

"You're getting in here, too?"

"Man, I have to. I can't let you handle a razor, you'll slit a major artery."

"I've shaved, Dean. I did it just this morning."

"Yeah, well, we're shaving more than just your face."

Castiel glared at Dean as he stepped in beside him, finally coming to terms with Castiel's nudity. "You're trying to feminize this body."

"Maybe I am. Do you have a problem with that? It's not like it's actually your's."

"True." Castiel sighed.

"But first, we have to wash your hair." Dean grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed out a palm-full, then began lathering it through Castiel's hair. "Close your eyes. If this stuff gets in there, it'll burn like a bad mother."

Castiel complied, and from the look on his face, he seemed to be enjoying having Dean's fingers massaging his scalp. Dean took note and actually continued long after it was necessary. "Okay." He said, after a good while. "I'm going to tip your head back, but make sure you keep your eyes closed."

"Okay." Castiel allowed Dean to push him back under the spray by his forehead and rinse the shampoo out. "It feels nice."

"Yeah, shut up. You can open your eyes, now."

Castiel did, but he blinked, because there were still beads of water making their way down to his eyes. "What now?"

"Now, we're going to lather you up. Switch places with me so you're out of the spray."

They had another awkward little DoSaDo in which Dean's thigh encountered Castiel's hip, and both of them shuddered, but Dean tried to ignore it, reaching for the shaving cream and spraying the cold blue gel onto his hand. He got an idea. "Hey, Cass. Put your hand out. You'll like this."

Castiel did, and watched Dean do the same to the palm of his hand. "It's cold." He said.

"Yeah, but watch." Dean rubbed his two hands together, turning the gel into the fluffy white cream he loved to feel thick between his fingers.

Castiel did the same, and a small smile appeared on his face. Man, Dean was on a roll today. That's how many times he got the angel to smile, now?

"Pretty neat, huh?"

"Yes. But what's it for?"

"It makes the razor glide smoother. And there's less of a chance of getting cut. Here." Dean brought his lathered hands to Castiel's chest and began spreading it over thick. "Thank God you don't have a whole forest up here. I'd have to use two different razor heads up in one night."

Castiel watched, and played idly with the shaving cream in his own hands.

"Here. Hold onto that." Dean said as he grabbed his razor off the shower-tray and began dragging it over Castiel's chest. He dragged, turned, rinsed, and repeated until the angel's chest was completely smooth. He then ran his hand over to make sure he hadn't missed a spot.

"Are you finished?"

"No. We're getting your legs, too."

"But you have hair on your legs." Castiel's eyebrows came down as he scrutinized the legs of the bossy man infront of him.

"Yeah, but you don't mind."

"I suppose not." Castiel agreed. Dean took him by the hands and kneeled down, forcing Cass to bend over. "What are you doing?"

Dean slapped Castiel's hands on his own thighs. "Lather them up. I'm not doing it. I'm close enough to your man-junk as is. No need having my hands on your thighs."

To be continued...and probably with porn. (I'm not just saying that to get you to read it, either. ;) )


	6. I Like the Way it Feels Between My Pt2

AN: Okay. I didn't not lie when I said there'd be porn. There is some. But it's not crack!porn. It's...actually pretty angsty and fluffy. This chapter is a lot more serious than those of the past. I lack consistancy.

* * *

Castiel ignored the man-junk comment and did as Dean told him, smoothing the fluffy mousse over his muscular thighs, and then lower, over his knees, then shins. But he didn't watch as he worked, instead, he connected his eyes to Deans as if to ask whether he was doing alright or not. Dean was under a spell for a moment before he got the implication.

"Uh. Make sure you get the backs too."

"Have you done this before?"

"Actually, yeah." Dean stood back up, his knees popping. "But not to myself. I'm au natural. But I did it once for a girl."

"Oh?" Castiel stood back up, maintaining the eye contact. "That was sweet of you."

Dean shrugged. "Not really. I mean...she was just some French exchange student at some college in Nebraska. She was a major babe, she just didn't believe in the American conventions of hair removal. So I culturally enlightened her."

"And God chose you..."

"Now you see where all of my self-doubt comes from." Dean smirked. "Now. Stand with your back against the tile and put one foot on the edge of the tub."

The angel complied without hesitation, left foot propped up on the tub, and Dean sank down to his knees once more, razor in hand. He knew a thing or two about shaving legs and women, but he wasn't completely sure when it came to men. When shaving his face, a man always goes with the grain, never against, because if you go against the grain, it damages the skin. Makes it raw and tears it up. But women have no need to abide by those rules, because the hair on their legs was sparse and wispy, not coarse and cord-like. He thought he'd better just treat Castiel's leg as any lady would treat her own, so he began at the ankle and dragged the razor upwards.

"It's a strange feeling." Castiel stated.

"Yeah? Well focus on balancing so I don't sever any tendons here." Dean continued. Soon, there was a long and wide patch of smooth exposed skin. "Heh heh. Not too bad. I haven't nicked you yet." He finished the lower half of Cass's left leg and started on the knee. "Oh. This is tricky."

"Do you want me to get it?" Castiel asked.

"No. I got it. I'm just beginning to appreciate all the conveniences of being male." He thought for a moment. "I'm not counting metrosexuals."

"Hm?"

"Never mind." He finished the knee and the cavity behind it. "You can put your leg down now. I need to get your thighs."

"I thought you didn't want to touch them."

"Well it's looking like I have to."

"Fine." Castiel put his foot back down and turned to face Dean so that he'd have better access. "But I really could handle it, Dean, if you'd let me."

"I've got it. I'm going to finish what I started." He began again, only it really was more difficult, because now he wasn't looking down, he was looking straight ahead and his position on his knees made him level with...certain things. Dean wasn't looking. He wasn't. His eyes were on the task at hand. But his peripheral vision was getting the best of him.

"You're taking longer." Castiel remarked.

"Thank you, coach." Dean grumbled. "Do you have any idea how pasty this dude's thighs are? Turn around. I need to get the backside."

Castiel did turn, and Dean realized too late that this would put him face to face (honestly...was there not a better choice of words?) with the angel's perfect, rounded, firm...MAN ass. It was MAN ass! And Dean was getting hard for it. Unbelievable.

"Unbelievable." He said aloud.

"What is?" Castiel asked, ignorantly.

"Nothing. Just...never mind." Dean finished up Castiel's left leg and ran his hand up, down, and around it first to make sure he hadn't missed anything, and second to admire his work and the beauty itself.

"You're done?" Cass began to turn around.

"NO!" Dean cried. "I mean...yes. But just stay how you are. I'm going to do the back-side of your right leg first."

"Why? That sounds completely illogical."

"Don't distract me. Be still and be quiet." Dean began on the back of Castiel's right leg, just as promised and imagined he was shaving Rosie O'Donnell's leg. Or better yet, he was shaving Dad's leg. If anything could deflate an erection, it was thoughts of shaving your hairy, wet, naked, glistening, and ever-so-toned-

Wait. This wasn't working. Now Dean was in full salute. What was happening to him? When had he become so...gay? And not just sleep-away-camp "I'll do it for you if you do it for me" gay, but hard-core "I'd like to ram it up this naked man-angel's tight virgin ass" gay.

"Dean. I think you cut me. Something stings."

Dean snapped back into present time and saw the bright pink foam running down Castiel's leg. He knew the angel wasn't really hurt, but it broke his heart anyway. He'd let his mind wander off, and look what happened. He'd cut the poor thing. "Poor thing?" Since when was that a phrase in Dean Winchester's vocabulary? Besides...an angel of The Lord, a warrior of God, could hardly be considered a "poor thing."

His first instinct was to wipe away the shaving cream and to kiss it. Maybe even lick it. But luckily, he though twice about it. The unfortunate thing was that by the time he was giving it a second thought, his tongue had already made the connection with the slightly salt-bitter taste of shaving cream residue and blood.

"What're you doing?" Castiel's voice was calm and mildly shocked, both at the same time. He turned to see Dean's eyelids flutter before lifting completely, showing the deep hazel eyes that stared up at him hungrily.

"I'm so sorry." Dean pleaded.

"Don't be. It's alright. This is how it's supposed to be."

"I don't mean that. I mean I'm sorry for cutting you."

"It didn't hurt." Castiel's eyes were narrowed, doing that thing they did when they wanted in Dean. Inside where his private thoughts remained tucked away. He sincerely wanted to understand the source of Dean's anguish. Was he really so upset over such a trivial thing as a shaving nick? Well...perhaps it made perfect sense. If Dean was truly falling in love with him as his Lord had instructed, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary at all for his heart to ache over having inflicted even the most miniscule of wounds on the angel.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Dean began to sway on the balls of his feet which was dangerous considering his crouched position in the tub, holding a razor in his hand. Castiel stooped down to brace him, holding him by the shoulders.

"Dean. Why don't you let me finish this side up myself? You should towel off and go wait on the bed. Rest."

Dean wiped the tears out of his eyes before they actually reached his cheek (_If you get them before they touch your cheek, they're not real tears._) and used the side of the tub to brace himself as he stood up to get out. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. Dean...I can handle it. Look." Castiel stood and turned again, baring his backside and indicating the back of his leg where Dean had previously cut him. The skin was flawless. The nick gone. "If I happen to do any damage, I can easily undo it. Let's not forget how you greeted me in that warehouse. You've done much worse than a small cut on the calve."

That reminder only twisted the imaginary knife in Dean's heart further. This pain was illogical. It wasn't physical, and it wasn't real. It was based on nothing. My god, love was like an illness. Like a virus. It just...infected you...then it GOT you.

"Alright." Dean said. Not to the angel, though. Not to himself. He said it to the thing that was between them. He was going to will himself over. Succumb. Resignation was such a negative word. He wrapped himself in a towel, not bothering to really dry off or to dress, and then flopped down on his bed. His cheeks were burning the way they seemed to for hours after a heavy dose of narcotics. In fact, that was how he felt. Like he'd taken a xanax on top of a hydrocodon and then washed it down with something fiery and soothing. His cheeks must be hot to the touch. He felt them, and they were. He hoped he wasn't sick. Sometimes, right before a real virus took hold, there'd be an evening where he'd feel this delirious sort of bliss. But it was never constant. It was in waves, always, that came with a case of the chills. This was a persistent high. And he wasn't craving it, waiting for a chill to pass and for the warmth to wash back in. It was craving him. Consuming him. He reeled in it, hardly noticing when Castiel entered the room once more, fully nude.

"Are you alright?" He asked Dean.

"I'm not sure. If I'm not sick, then you've done something to me. Go turn the water off, you left it running, I can hear it. Right to left. All three knobs."

Castiel obeyed, and when he came back he took a seat on the bed beside the towel-covered croissant that was Dean. "I haven't done anything to you, Dean. You tasted my blood."

"Yeah. No. I mean...I had it in my mouth, but I couldn't taste it. I was too busy thinking about it."

"Dean. What I mean is...I'm powering this body, right now. Yes, this body is alive. The man it belongs to...he's alive, too. He's in here, in a deep and spiritual hibernation. But it is my celestial being that courses through these veins. In this blood. You took it into yourself. You're not ill. You're filled with my essence."

"I'll save the puns for when I'm feeling less...perfect." Dean shuddered, feeling the heat from the proximity of their bodies. "God...I need you touching me right now."

"I like you better this way." Castiel let a small smirk play over his features before moving around on the bed to wrap around the taller man. It wasn't hard to do considering Dean's fetal position.

"If you're planning on drugging me with your blood, I won't object. This is the most amazing all-body high I've ever felt."

"I wasn't. In fact, I'm not all too certain it's a very sanitary thing to do."

Dean answered with a push of air between his teeth. It was all he could do. The feel of the air-chilled skin of the angel against his own heat-maddened flesh was enough to make him beg. Only he didn't know what he should be begging for.

"Tonight?" He found himself asking.

"Tonight? What about tonight?"

"Can we..." Dean wanted to put it crudely. He felt he would instinctively, but he couldn't make the words leave his lips. "Can we seal the deal? Consecrate this thing?' His eyes rolled into his head, just mentioning it.

"If that's what you want." Castiel replied. He knew enough. He knew that if he kissed Dean right behind his ear, it would make the over-all sensation he was feeling even more intense. And he wanted that. He legitimately wanted to make Dean Winchester feel good. He sincerely loved the human. It was becoming all too obvious.

His fingers knew where to go, and it was strange that it all came to him so easily because he had never been to bed with a man before. He'd never been to bed with anyone before. Sex was an alien thing to him, but God must've granted him some special ability because he did not hesitate when the tips of his fingers danced over the eldest Winchester's chest, removing the towel from around him and flinging it to the floor. The both of them were now bare. Dean's hot, naked back was against Castiel's cool chest and stomach. They fit together perfectly, and both of them, simultaneously, decided that it was a God-given fact that they would meld this way no matter what the position. So Dean rolled over, to test this theory, and planted a kiss on the angel's chin. Castiel looked into his eyes and held him entranced for a moment while he brought his arms around the human's torso, pulling them in together.

He could feel Dean's erection ticking hot against his stomach. He'd been this way for a while now. Castiel was just now beginning to rise, himself. The feeling was not entirely new to him. He'd been in the body for roughly a month now. He hadn't been harboring any lustful thoughts, at least not any that didn't concern Dean. Erections, so far, had been nothing but a simple biological phenomenon up until this point.

"You want your release inside me..." Castiel stated, but it had the connotation of a question. He knew that this is something Dean wanted very much, but he wasn't sure if it was what he wanted quite yet. In a way, he hoped so, and in a way he didn't. His nerves warned him that it may make this body physically ill in revolt. The damage could be mended, but Castiel would still feel it as though the body were truly his. On the other hand, the left hand to be precise, he wanted Dean deep inside him. He wanted to know Dean in the most carnal of ways. He wanted to know Dean as women knew him.

"Not tonight." Dean sighed, breathing in the sent of Castiel's neck. "Just this, for now. Just...just skin. I already feel like we're parts of each other just lying on this bed. With that...angel blood in me." He kissed hungrily at Castiel's shoulder and rubbed against his belly, knowing just how much or how little friction it would take to bring him to orgasm.

Castiel wanted to bring Dean's release about, himself, but as he reached his hand down between them, Dean stole it and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the finger tips and then set them aside, snaking his arms around the middle of the angel.

"I feel you hard on me." Dean whispered. Nearly grunted. He brought his thigh up to rub against Castiel, and the angel's eyes fluttered in ecstasy. It was nice. Pleasant. Reminded him of home. But it was better than home, because he was here with Dean. And the humanness of the situation made it more intimate. Some people considered this scandalous and sinful. He suddenly understood lust. The appeal of it. _Why_ some things were considered dirty even though they were a natural part of the life cycle. But it wasn't a sinful thing at all. It was Heavenly. And even more Heavenly was the spray of Dean's cum (and when Castiel thought the word, he shuddered harder. It was so obvious, now, why those words were so exciting...arousing...) against his belly and chest. He wanted to taste it. He looked at Dean with pleading eyes, not sure how to communicate his wish without being too explicit. True, the "dirtiness" was part of the exotic beauty to him, but there was Dean to think of. He didn't want to make it cheap for him.

Luckily, Dean caught on, and though he wasn't a fan of the act, it didn't matter tonight. He bent his head to Castiel's stomach and licked the remnants of his pleasure up in one long, slow sweep of the tongue before crawling back up to lock lips with the angel. The taste sent Castiel over along with the brush of Dean's abdomen over the tip of his cock.

_Such a rich, earthy, salty taste and vocabulary._

Castiel's release was instantaneous. He gave spasm after spasm of sappy fluid that covered Dean's belly in a marbled fashion.

When the kiss broke and the two were lying spent and wordless, side by side, panting and heaving together on the bed, it became apparent that no words were necessary to communicate anything. Their love was the simplest. It just was. For ever and ever, world without end. Amen.

After Note: Okay. This may or may not be the end. I haven't decided yet. If I decide it isn't, then the last chapter will probably be a follow-up after some time has passed since this night. Sorry to those of you who were reading for the humor, because there is hardly any in this chapter. But for anyone who was just following along thinking "When the hell is the bitch gonna get to the naked stuffs?" ...I delivered. And I'm patting myself on the back for that. I know I wasn't very explicit, but I wanted to use the sex to explore Castiel's character a little more. Notice, the sex was hardly physical for him...like...mind-sex, lol. I don't know. It probably doesn't read how I felt it when I was trying to depict it. But I've come to terms with the fact that I think unintelligably. Anyhow. Yeah.


End file.
